Five Nights at Freddy's: Infinite
by Insane Guy of DOOM
Summary: Booker DeWitt awakens in a security guard office. Now, he must find the answer to the most important question of his life: Is he ready for Freddy?


Five Nights at Freddy's: Infinite

Booker flashed in and out of consciousness. He was being dragged by his arms through a darkened hallway. The people dragging him were talking, but they didn't seem to realize Booker was awake.

"Are you sure this is wise?" Robert asked.

"Wise? Perhaps not," Rosalind answered. "But entertaining? Very."

"What about the actual security guard?" They pulled Booker into a slightly better lit room.

"I left an anonymous message that his family was in danger and that he should check on them rather than going to work tonight." The Luteces each grabbed Booker underneath one of his arms and hefted the unconscious body into a chair at the center of the room.

"His family is in danger?" Robert frowned in confusion.

"No. But imagine how pleased he will be to see they're alright. Everyone wins."

"Except for DeWitt."

Rosalind nodded with a devious smile. "Except for DeWitt."

The Luteces dusted off their hands while admiring their work. Booker would fully regain consciousness any moment now. Then the real fun would begin. Booker stirred in his sleep, muttering something about a debt. The twins took this as their cue to vanish.

A telephone began to ring as Booker groaned and forced his eyes open.

"Wha… Anna?" Booker rubbed his head, there was a nasty bruise forming above his left temple.

"Hopefully he hasn't sustained any brain damage. It would make things far less interesting," Rosalind commented. She and Robert had were observing the reality they'd left Booker in without actually entering it, so as not to disturb him.

"Well _you_ were the one who dropped him," Robert said.

"A complete accident."

Booker inspected the room he'd awoken in. There was a door on either side of him, each with two buttons labeled "Door" and "Light." Directly in front was a desk covered with inactive computer monitors, as well as a small fan, some crumpled paper, and an empty cup of soda. On the wall behind the desk was a large poster depicting three cartoon animals, a rabbit, bear and some kind of bird, with the text "CELEBRATE!" above them. Booker scratched his chin, trying to figure out if the bird was supposed to be a chicken or a duck. To the right of the poster were several children's drawings featuring the same characters, all labeled "My Fun Day."

"_Hello, hello?" Booker jumped in his seat. He hadn't noticed the phone had ceased ringing. _

_"Yeah? This is DeWitt. You are?"_

_"Uh, I wanted to record a message for you to help you get settled in on your first night. Um, I actually worked in that office before you..." The voice on the phone carried on with no regard for Booker's question._

_"Hey. I'm talking to you, buddy." Booker growled. The idea of a recorded phone message was beyond him at the time._

_"I'm finishing up my last week now, as a matter of fact. So, I know it can be a bit overwhelming, but I'm here to tell you there's nothing to worry about. Uh, you'll do fine. So, let's just focus on getting you through your first week. Okay?"_

_"I don't care. Just… Where am I am?"_

_The voice kept talking, this time about magical places for kids and grown-ups alike, and missing person reports. _

_"Are you gonna' tell me what's going on, or not?"_

"Blah blah blah, now that might sound bad, I know, but there's really nothing to worry about. Uh, the animatronic characters here do get a bit quirky at night, but do I blame them?"

"Animatronics?" Booker looked back to the poster. The three cartoon animals were staring out with happy grins. Something about them sent shivers down Booker's spine.

"So, just be aware, the characters do tend to wander a bit. Uh, they're left in some kind of free roaming mode at night. Uh...Something about their servos locking up if they get turned off for too long."

"Wander?" Booker quickly checked each of the open doors. Outside was pitch black, anything could be lurking there.

"Uh, they used to be allowed to walk around during the day too. But then there was The Bite of '87. Yeah. I-It's amazing that the human body can live without the frontal lobe, you know?"

"Hey! What do you mean by 'bite'? What is this place?!" Booker stood up and shouted at the phone. He waited for an answer.

"Uh, now concerning your safety, the only real risk to you as a night watchman here, if any, is the fact that these characters, uh, if they happen to see you after hours probably won't recognize you as a person."

"Can you even hear me?" Booker waited again for a response.

"They'll p-most likely see you as a metal endoskeleton without its costume on. Now since that's against the rules here at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, they'll probably try to...forcefully stuff you inside a Freddy Fazbear suit."

"Nope. You can't."

"Um, now, that wouldn't be so bad if the suits themselves weren't filled with crossbeams, wires, and animatronic devices, especially around the facial area. So, you could imagine how having your head forcefully pressed inside one of those could cause a bit of discomfort...and death."

"Wait. What?"

"Uh, the only parts of you that would likely see the light of day again would be your eyeballs and teeth when they pop out the front of the mask, heh. Y-Yeah, they don't tell you these things when you sign up."

"I didn't sign up for anything!"

"But hey, first day should be a breeze. I'll chat with you tomorrow. Uh, check those cameras, and remember to close the doors only if absolutely necessary. Gotta conserve power. Alright, good night." There was a click as the recording ended.

"Hey! What's going on? Where am I?" Booker grabbed the phone and shook it. When no answer came, he tore it from the wall and threw it out the left-side door. The phone sailed into the darkness with is cord streaming behind, landing with a crash out of Booker's view.

Booker sat back down. He saw something glinting on the desk, previously obscured by the phone. He reached over to grab it. The device was a notebook-thin rectangle with a screen depicting a map with rooms labeled by camera numbers. At the bottom of the map there was a room labeled "You," presumably the one he was presently in.

The phone guy had said something about checking the cameras, so Booker poked at the device's screen. His finger landed on a room labeled "CAM 1B," the screen instantly switched to a video feed of a stage. On it were the three animal characters Booker had seen on the poster. They were completely stationary, and appeared harmless if not a little creepy.

Suddenly the screen flickered and for a split second it was replaced by static. The screen returned to normal, but now the mascots' heads had all rotated to face the camera. Booker stared back at the animatronics. They remained motionless but still trained at the camera.

"The hell is this place?" Booker clicked on another camera button, only for the entire screen to go dark.

He lowered the tablet and was grabbed by the rabbit animatronic. It let out a horrible shriek as it pulled Booker from his chair. Booker was stronger than the past security guards, however, and he fought back with all his might. He shouted a Lakota war-cry he had heard countless times at Wounded Knee, then punched the rabbit on its oversized lower jaw. Unused to the guards actually fighting back, the rabbit was unprepared. Booker's fist hit with enough force to twist the rabbit's mask sideways, obscuring its vision.

In shock from the blow, the rabbit dropped Booker to the floor. He scooted away while the rabbit grabbed the sides of its mask, trying to pull it back to its proper position. Booker looked to his right. The right side door was still empty, and was now his best chance at survival. He clambered to his feet and sprinted out the door and through the darkness.

Booker kept running, following the maze-like corridors of the restaurant until he came to a large kitchen. None of the lights were working, but the shadows cast by the large island in the middle and variety of cutlery hanging from the ceiling was enough to clue Booker in. A dim shaft of light came from outside the door on the far side of the room. A figure moved in to obscure the light, casting it into an outline which Booker could recognize.

"Chicken-duck." Booker looked around for any piece of cutlery that could serve as a weapon. His eyes fell on a butcher's knife hanging from the wall. He crouched down and crawled towards the knife. Booker drew closer and closer to the knife. The chicken stood at the door's entryway, its back to the kitchen.

The knife was so close, Booker took one final step until it was in arm's reach. His foot brushed against an empty soup can hidden in the shadows. It fell with mild clatter. Booker froze. He glanced to the other side of the kitchen while trying to turn his head a little as possible. The chicken-duck had turned around, and was staring at him. His cover blown, Booker abandoned subtlety and grabbed the knife.

Both the animatronic and Booker screamed and charged at each other. Booker stabbed the butcher's knife into the chicken's midsection. This did not seem to hinder the mascot at all. It wrapped its arms around Booker, presumably to carry him off to be stuffed into a Freddy Fazbear suit. Booker raised the knife and continued to stab at various areas on the chicken.

The chicken-duck began to snap its toothed beak shut repeatedly. Booker wriggled within its grasp to avoid the bites while continuing to stab. He aimed for the side of the animatronic's head and sunk the knife in as far as it would go. There was a brief sound of metal scraping against metal, then the chicken released Booker from its grasp. Smoke poured from its mouth and it began to twitch and sputter. Finally, the chicken-duck fell over and was still.

Booker braced his hands on his knees and panted. He would wait until he was positive the thing was dead, then retrieve the knife. A song began to play, lightly at first, but getting louder and louder. It sounded vaguely familiar to Booker, as if he had heard it as a child. He stood up and looked around for the source of the music.

Deep laughter began to drown out the song. It was a breathy "Huh huh huh" that sounded more sinister than joyous. He reached down to pull the butcher's knife out of the chicken-duck to combat this new threat.

The chicken screamed as it latched onto Booker's calf with its jaws. Weakened from the blow, it could not injury Booker, but the grip was tight enough to immobilize him.

While the music intensified and Booker struggled to free his leg from the chicken's grip, something leapt at the two from the shadows. Freddy Fazbear tackled Booker, the combined weight snapping Booker's leg. Both of them fell to the floor. Booker's vision clouded from the pain. The last thing he saw was Freddy's smiling face.

Hours later, the Luteces appeared in the restaurant's back room. They glared at a hunched-over Freddy Fazbear suit with decidedly human eyeballs and teeth dangling from the mask-holes.

"How long was that?" Rosalind lifted the suit's head up. Yes, the eyes definitely had belonged to DeWitt.

"Twenty eight minutes, thirty seconds," Robert answered.

"This was fun, we should do it again some time."

Robert frowned. "I can tell by the glint in your eyes that "some time" does not mean _once_ more. We'll run out of Bookers this way."

"You can _never_ run out of Bookers."

While the Luteces continued to argue whether or not it was possible to exhaust a multiverse's supply of a person, they didn't notice another figure had entered the room.

"Dum dum de dum." The twins whipped their heads around in search of the voice. A tattered and heavily damaged fox animatronic lunged at them while screeching.


End file.
